


Lipstick Kiss

by EmeraldCelebi



Category: Library Wars, Toshokan Sensou, Toshokan Sensou | Library War
Genre: Dojo gets mad and Iku is sheepish: the fic, Genda is mentioned once, also a handful of made up background characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 11:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19744639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldCelebi/pseuds/EmeraldCelebi
Summary: Since Iku doesn't usually wear makeup, she has an unfortunate tendency to forget when she actuallyis-- much to Dojo's chagrin.





	Lipstick Kiss

Dojo paced the length of the small backstage area for the umpteenth time, working out a small case of the nerves in what he probably hoped would be the least conspicuous way possible. Against the wall across from him, Iku folded her arms and huffed a sigh, repressing the urge to clamp her hands down on his arms and force him to stop pacing back and forth. She would have no role in the proceedings onstage, but his jitters were making her nervous by proxy. A couple of members of the Musashino First logistical support division were lingering by the stage entrance, watching the meeting happening onstage.

Following the laws passed by the Japanese government prohibiting firearms in the library’s battle against the Media Improvement Act, the Japan Library Association began sponsoring an annual, publicly-held meeting in central Tokyo in which Japan’s various public libraries presented general status reports. This was also in the interest of preventing another power-corruption situation from occurring like the one in Ibaraki leading up to the art exhibition battle. Appropriately, the top brass of all the public libraries in Japan were in attendance, and the Musashino First’s Task Force also sent a few representatives to give a small report. Ordinarily, Commander Genda and a few members of logistical support were sent to perform the task, but this year Genda was inflicted with a minor concussion in an Improvement Agency raid a week before the meeting. Naturally, he was expected to be up and kicking in plenty of time for the forum, but as long as he still had bandages on, logistical support decided it was best that he not make an appearance (Dojo, on the other hand, was convinced that they were just fishing for ways to keep the unpredictable Genda out of the official proceedings, just in case). And thus, although there were plenty of capable senior members of the task force who could have done the job, the report was entrusted directly from Commander Genda to Officer First Class Dojo. 

The man himself finally paused at the other end of the backstage space, his back to Iku, appearing to be reading over his notes again. Dojo was accustomed to taking on big responsibilities, but he was less confident in a role with such a heavy emphasis on public speaking. Although it was only a brief report, Iku could tell he was a little nervous about it. As his wife, she was allowed to wait backstage with him-- as a source of moral support, or simply out of principle, Iku supposed. She uncrossed her arms and walked up behind him quietly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Iku whispered, prompting Dojo to turn his head to look at her, expression all business. He had to look slightly up to make eye contact, but this didn’t seem to irritate him nearly as much as it used to. “You ready?” Dojo gave her a small smile.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her, taking the hand that she put on his shoulder and holding it. She smiled back at him. He never let her see him practice, but she knew that, when she wasn’t around, he had gone over and over the report in the past few days-- in fact, knowing him, he had it memorized. On impulse, Iku leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“I know you are,” she whispered proudly. His smile turned quizzical, but before he could ask “then why did you ask?”, the polite applause from onstage and the logistical support members signaled them that it was their turn to go on. Dojo put his business face back on and turned briskly to stride on stage alongside the other Musashino First Library representatives, back straight and head held high. He took his place at the center podium while the other members arranged themselves-- and Iku, watching from the wings backstage, had to slap a hand over her mouth to quiet her mortified gasp.

High on Dojo’s left cheek, he brandished a light pink lipstick kiss where Iku had pecked him on the cheek moments before. It wouldn’t be visible from as far back as the auditorium seated, but those officials sitting in the front row would have a decent view of the offending mark. Just before Dojo began his speech, Iku swore she could hear low snickering and murmuring coming from those closest to the stage, and an on-stage logistical support woman on his left side had clearly noticed, eyes bugging out for a split second before she regained her composure. Iku nervously rubbed at the remaining lipstick on her mouth, suddenly very grateful she had chosen a modest, light shade of pink to wear to the event. As Dojo spoke, Iku briefly considered bailing on the event to run home and await her husband’s wrath in a private place.

Iku watched Dojo flawlessly deliver the report from the wings, trying to decide if she should try to be the first person to point out the lipstick mark before anybody else could mention it following the Musashino First Library’s report. She considered the possibility that nobody would even say anything out of respect for Dojo’s pride. Even the logistical support woman who had the visceral reaction onstage Iku knew to be a relatively straitlaced type, likely to stay in her own lane on matters like this, so it wasn’t a big concern for Iku that somebody present might try and poke fun at him for it (Shibasaki or Komaki would, of course, but luckily they were absent from the current proceedings). As she moved into the audience to rendezvous with the Musashino First team after their report, she decided to wait until after they left the event to mention the mark.

There were a few reports following the Musashino First Library’s, and then the meeting let out to a small reception. As the lights in the auditorium went up and everybody stood to mingle, Iku could see that the light pink lipstick on high on Dojo’s cheek was still very much visible, and had to remind herself not to stare. Dojo struck up a conversation with nearby members of an Okutama branch library as they moved out into the spacious lobby of the convention center, and Iku’s mounting anxiety that somebody might mention the lipstick on his face had her searching for an excuse to get them out of there as fast as possible. Before she could cut into their conversation, she was interrupted.

“I’m so sorry to butt in, but are you Iku Kasahara?” A friendly-looking woman who looked to be in her forties tapped Iku’s shoulder lightly to get her attention, assuming the buzz of conversation in the lobby was the reason for Iku’s unresponsiveness. Iku didn’t get out to library-related social events often enough to be accustomed to her fame as the first female task force member in the country, so it didn’t register at first why this woman would know who she was.

“Err.. yes, I am.” The woman’s face lit up with excitement.

“Oh, wow! It’s so wonderful to meet you!” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Yuriko Hanabe; I work at the National Diet Library. It’s an honor to meet the first female task force member of the library force!” Despite being distracted by her worries about Dojo, the words “National Diet Library” didn’t miss her attention as being a pretty high-ranking position in the library world. She took Yuriko’s hand. “I’ve heard about so many young women who have been inspired by you to join the fight for the freedom of libraries. It’s really amazing!” Iku was pleasantly surprised by the woman’s high praise and she smiled back, directing her full attention to the conversation. “Is it true that you have to train harder than the men in your division?”

Gradually, Iku completely forgot about Dojo and the lipstick mark, totally immersed in the conversation with Yuriko about their work. Older women like Yuriko usually didn’t approve of Iku’s choice of career, feeling it wasn’t a woman’s place to enter a violent line of work, and sometimes even blaming Iku for enabling other women to join the library defense force. Talking to someone who instead admired her for the hard work she put in was a surprising and welcome deviation from the norm. After a long conversation, Yuriko excused herself to speak to some of her own peers in the Diet Library, snapping Iku back to reality. She turned to find Dojo no longer behind her-- or even in sight through the crowd of people still mingling in the lobby. A brief panic set in as Iku wondered how long she had been talking to Yuriko, and she scanned the room fervently looking for her lost-- and, damn him, _short_ \-- husband. After a few scans of the room, Iku finally caught sight of him pushing through the crowd towards her.

At this point in their marriage, Iku had learned to pick up on the subtleties in Dojo’s expressions, which generally started at his resting bitch face and changed infinitesimally from there depending on his mood. Sometimes the only thing that gave away his temper was as small as an extra line in between his brows, but Iku was almost always able to discern his microscopic facial cues. Iku, unfortunately, knew this particular expression of barely suppressed rage too well. Her eyes automatically went to where the lipstick mark once was, finding that his face instead sported a slight shade of red high on his cheekbone from wiping the spot with the coarse convention center restroom paper towels. Her heart sank, anticipating a long lecture that evening instead of the celebration that she was hoping for.

Dojo grabbed her hand roughly when he got to her, turning to pull her towards the exit doors with a grumbled “Let’s go home”. Iku allowed herself to be dragged along limply, resigned to her fate. She waited in silence while he hailed a taxi, then waited in more silence during the ride back to their shared apartment on the library's property. She considered saying something to break the tension, but couldn't bring herself to when she glanced sidelong at Dojo's stony countenance.

Arriving at their apartment door in silence, Dojo unlocked it and shouldered his way in, not seeming to have cooled off at all in what felt like an hour-long taxi ride (it had been 15 minutes). The minute he closed the door, he rounded on Iku, as she had expected.

“What the hell kind of idiot are you!!” Iku flinched back from the oft-repeated phrase, shuffling her feet in their entryway. “You don’t usually wear very much makeup, so couldn’t you at least have been conscious of it the one time you do?! Couldn’t you _think_ for a second about how it could rub off?!” Iku murmured a few meek, placating “I’m sorry”s, but they didn’t land. “Do you KNOW how I looked, in front of all of those people?!! It was _indecent!!_ ”

The word “indecent” struck Iku as a strong impression, for a mark on his cheek that only a few people in the front row would have even seen. Still, the stress of his responsibility at the meeting had probably made him more tense than usual, and if somebody he admired had pointed out the lipstick kiss, that high-strung tension must have popped like a balloon. Even so-- as Dojo continued to bellow his lecture at her, she realized how silly the situation was-- he was yelling at her over a _lipstick mark_ , of all things. _What the hell! He was less angry when I left a bite mark on his shoulder the first time we slept together!_ She was still staring at her feet, but now Iku could tell that her husband was just trying to cover up his embarrassment, for both the lipstick mark (in fairness, still her fault) and for his explosive reaction to the whole ordeal. Before she could stop herself, she was choking back laughter.

“Just what the hell is so funny?!” Dojo barked, halting his own lecture, his ears red with self-consciousness. Iku could no longer stay to hold in her laughter, cracking up in their entryway. She covered her mouth with one hand, attempting to muffle her giggles in deference to Dojo’s growing embarrassment, but it did little to help the situation.

“I-- I’m sorry,” she gasped out between fits of laughter, “But-- but, Atsushi-san, can’t you see how funny all this is??” Silently fuming, Dojo crossed his arms and shifted his weight back, waiting for her to explain herself. She calmed down a little, then continued, “You-- It’s pretty funny, you have to admit. I mean, the only people who would’ve seen it were in the front row! And it's not that big of a deal-- just a small cosmetic malfunction!” Dojo was scowling now, completely unconvinced. He huffed a sharp sigh and turned away to head for their bedroom, disengaging from his wife’s mockery. “Wait!! Wait, seriously, I’m sorry!” Iku, still giggling a little, grabbed his shoulder so he couldn’t walk away. “Nobody takes pictures at that event anyway, so I’m sure it will be completely forgotten about by, like, tomorrow. Hey!” She grabbed his other shoulder and leaned around him, trying to peer into his face from behind. “Don’t be mad. I’m sorry.” Dojo stubbornly faced away, barely glancing at her face.

“...If you’re actually sorry, try saying that with a straight face!!” He rebuked, attempting again to step away from her. Iku held fast.

“I said wait!!” She was still laughing a little, but quickly stepped in front of him to block his path. She took a deep breath to compose herself, and schooled her expression into her best serious straight face. “Atsushi-san, I’m very sorry for embarrassing you. And then laughing at you.” She wasn’t sorry enough to throw in a bow, but was able to maintain eye contact. Arms still crossed, Dojo stared her down for an uncomfortable few moments. Just before Iku could yell _say something, dammit!!_ , he raised a single eyebrow sarcastically, which broke the tension set her off again. As she doubled over laughing again, Dojo rolled his eyes and stepped around her, heading down the short hallway to their bedroom.

“Just don't do it again,” he warned, keeping his back to her. He couldn't resist cracking a smile himself as Iku's infectious laughter died down, silently forgiving her for the mistake. Iku grinned as she followed him into their room, knowing that he wouldn’t be mad at her for long, and turned her attention to getting ready for bed.

**Author's Note:**

> I had the hardest time in the world ending this fic. With all of my drafts, I write it out over a course of time, then I spend a hearty amount of time letting it marinate, occasionally going back to read over it and fixing awkward-sounding sentences or grammatical errors. On this one, I probably spent the better part of 6 months trying to pick a better way to end it before just giving up eventually, so.... here it is.


End file.
